


So We're Bound To Linger On

by The_Ominous_Owl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, But she's bad at being dead, Character Death, F/F, Sorry Not Sorry, Swan Queen - Freeform, and got Regal Swan Believer all over it, but i also tripped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ominous_Owl/pseuds/The_Ominous_Owl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“It should never have happened,” Emma said, her voice thick. “It’s my fault, Henry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The ghosts of the underworld continue to haunt them, even months later. When Regina is apparently killed in a battle that should never have happened, her family have to adjust to a world without her in it. But simple and straightforward haven’t lived here in a while and, well, Emma’s already defied death once this year, hasn’t she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Henry

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set six-ish months after they return from the underworld, but I did accidentally sort of forget that Zelena is a thing until like half way through, and I didn’t want to go back and write her in. (All I’ve seen of season 5b is gifsets and rants on tumblr, so apologies for any inaccuracies.) Hook is in it (sry) but the CS stuff is unhappy and doesn’t last. Robin tragically perished on the way out of the underworld. (sry) This is my first foray into writing for this fandom, so think of this as me dipping my toe in the Swan Queen pool. We’ll see if I fall in or get my foot bitten off. Unbeta’d.

 

**i. Henry**

It didn’t rain the day they buried Regina Mills. The sun shone down on them as they gathered at the crypt in the graveyard, cheerful in its perversity, as if Henry wasn’t slowly being consumed by the aching void in his chest where his mother used to be. The sun shone and the birds sang and the world went on without her, like the universe itself was celebrating the death of the Evil Queen. Henry thought that was unfair; someone should’ve told the universe that the Evil Queen died long ago. That Regina had died protecting a man she’d claimed to loathe was proof of that.

Henry glanced over at the man in question. He was hovering on Emma’s other side, eyes distant as he stared up at the imposing stone building with a haunted expression. His hand was tangled with Emma’s, but there was something mechanical about the gesture, as if they were both only doing it out of habit rather than any real desire to be close. His hook glinted in the sunlight as he tapped it against his leg in an anxious gesture, and every now and then, he’d glance around, as if looking for something. Which, Henry supposed, was not unreasonable given that a demon from the underworld had almost killed him a week ago.

Movement in the corner of his eye drew Henry’s gaze back to the proceedings as Snow made her way to the front of the gathering and turned to face them, framed by the stone columns of the crypt. The crypt had been Emma’s doing. Snow had mentioned that it would’ve been nice if they could lay Regina next to her father, and Emma’s expression had shifted to something Henry couldn’t describe before she’d vanished in a puff of pale golden smoke. She’d reappeared a few hours later, looking haggard, and when Henry had ventured into the graveyard he’d found the stone building magically expanded, with a second sarcophagus next to the one that housed Henry Mills Snr. It was empty, of course; they’d never actually found Regina’s body, or the body of the hellbeast she’d taken with her, but the writer in Henry appreciated the symbolism.

The door was open behind his grandmother, and Henry found his gaze drawn to the single candle that burned atop his mother’s casket. The flame was the same colour as the fire that had coated the creature from the underworld, and Henry found himself drawn unwillingly back to the memory of that day.

**…**

It began, as things in Storybrooke tended to, with Grumpy tearing down the street proclaiming doom at the top of his lungs. “Demon dog!” he screamed as he burst into Granny’s, prompting a wave of panic in the citizens and an exasperated sigh from Regina. Henry had dragged her and Emma there after school under the guise of needing help with a family history assignment, but really he was just celebrating the fact that his mother was actually accepting invitations again. She’d been in a sort of seclusion since Robin’s sacrifice and their return from the underworld, but the steady and unwavering support from her family was dragging her out of her self-imposed exile.

“Demon dog. Of course there is,” Regina griped as she stood, moving towards the door with Emma close behind her. “Where, dwarf?”

“Sneezy says it was heading for the docks,” Grumpy replied, and Emma’s face went pale.

“Hook,” she whispered, before vanishing in a swirl of smoke.

“Emma, wait!” Regina called, but the blonde was gone. She muttered something under her breath then turned to Henry. “Henry dear, call your grandparents.” She pulled a face, then added, “All of your grandparents,” and it took Henry a moment to realise she meant Rumplestiltskin. “Then get somewhere safe.”

“But—” Henry began, but his mother cut him off.

“Henry, I have to catch up with your mother before she does something stupid. _Please_ , just do as I ask.”

“Okay,” he relented, and Regina smiled. She touched one hand to his hair, then vanished in a puff of purple smoke. Henry waited five seconds, then slipped out the door, pulling out his phone as he went. He called the Charmings, then Belle – because Rumplestiltskin had refused to use a cell phone since they’d returned from the underworld – then he set out at a fast jog, heading towards the docks. His mom had told him to go somewhere safe, and where would be safer than close to the three most magically powerful people in Storybrooke?

Running was so much slower than magic, meaning he arrived at the docks as night was falling and the battle was ending, just in time to see Regina shift back in a blur of purple, dodging the swipe of a creature that definitely looked like a resident of hell. The beast was huge, easily twice the size of the massive horses the knights of Camelot had ridden, and it looked like a cross between a dog and a gorilla, though instead of fur, it was covered in something resembling smouldering coals, like the dying remains of a campfire. The hellbeast roared in defiance as it missed its target, and turned its fiery eyes to Hook, who was doubled over in pain, clutching a wound on his stomach. It started towards him with a snarl, but then there was another flash of magic and Emma appeared between them. Henry wasn’t close enough to hear what she shouted, but he got the gist when she surged forward, lurching to her knees as she thrust a massive burst of magic towards the creature. Regina shouted something, but it was lost in the savage roar the beast let out as the saviour’s magic hit it, picking it up and throwing it out over the end of the pier and into the water of the bay. It let out an ear-splitting shriek as it hit the water, then there was a loud detonation and the beast vanished in a flash of fire.

The singular frozen moment that followed was one Henry could recall with almost perfect clarity, and he knew with a certainty he couldn’t explain that if he ever Wrote about this battle, this was the image that would appear in the Book. Rumplestiltskin, standing backlit by the flames of a burning warehouse, face alight with a manic, impish grin; Hook, gripping a scorched and bloodied sword in his hand and curling his other arm over the bleeding claw marks on his stomach. And between them were his mothers. Emma, on her knees and trembling with exertion, looking up at the woman beside her with wide eyes; Regina, next to her, her stance protective and her hand under Emma’s elbow, supporting her to stand. The reflection of the flames in the water made them glow with an ethereal light and for a moment, Henry caught a flash of enough raw emotion between them that he felt heat rise in his cheeks. He looked away, feeling bizarrely like he was intruding on a private moment, moving his gaze instead to where Rumple was beginning to pull water from the bay to douse the flames.

The moment was broken when something exploded somewhere inside the burning warehouse, making all of them flinch. Emma had been halfway to her feet and stumbled against Regina, who caught her with a surprised grunt. Hook moved to stand beside them and reached out a hand to steady Emma, but she shook them both off and took a step back, turning to Gold as the last of the flames died away.

“Did we kill it?” Emma voice was hoarse, as if she’d been shouting for hours, but she was a little steadier on her feet.

Rumple shook his head. “It knew it was outmatched and fled. It’ll be back.”

“What was it?” Hook asked, sheathing his sword.

“I’m not sure. I have to check something,” the Dark One replied, then vanished, leaving Emma frowning at the space where he’d been and Regina rolling her eyes.

After a trip to his shop and a consultation with Belle, Rumple identified the beast as one of the Arae, a cursed being sent by Hades to drag those who had escaped back to the underworld. He claimed that as one Twice Returned, he was safe from the beast’s grasp, as was Regina, who’d won safe passage home through the sacrifice of her soulmate. Henry, he was unsure about, saying that the Author usually travelled under different rules, but the fact that he’d done more than simply observe may have negated that protection. The rest of them were fair game, particularly Hook, who’d been in the underworld legitimately until the hero’s interference. The beast would try to target them all at once, but failing that, would go for Hook first.

A plan was made. Snow and Charming gathered their people, staying apart but making sure their people were protected while Emma, Regina and Hook went to confront the beast. Only Emma and Hook came back, and they both refused to talk about what happened, even to each other. As far as the townsfolk were concerned, they were the only two people who knew exactly what had transpired. The townsfolk were wrong.

 Henry remembered it. He hadn’t told anyone that, had lied when Emma had asked him if he’d seen. There was a trick the Apprentice had taught him, a little bit of magic that came with being the Author. _“An Author who cannot watch writes poor stories,”_ he’d said, and shown Henry how he could free his mind from his body and watch events unfold from a safer distance. He still had to be close, and it didn’t always work, but Henry had been determined this time.

He remembered the three of them, Mom, Ma, and Hook, striding together towards the hellbeast that had followed them back from the underworld. He remembered Emma, minutes later, arcing through the air before slamming into a brick wall and sliding to the ground. He remembered Hook, trapped beneath debris and struggling to free himself as the beast bore down on him. But most clearly, he remembered his mother, indecision written across her face as she stood midway between where Emma lay and where Hook struggled.

From his vantage point, he couldn’t see her face as she gazed at Emma, but it was after one final look towards his ma that she turned to stalk towards the beast as it hovered over Hook, her expression hardened into one of terrible purpose. Regina’s hands glowed with magic as she moved, but the beast paid no attention to her until she released the stored power with a gesture and an invisible force slammed into the demon, throwing it a hundred yards down the road where it landed heavily before staggering back to its feet. The blow hadn’t wounded it, and it came charging back towards them with a scream of anger.

Henry’s heart was in his throat as it bore down on them once again, but his mother barely reacted. She faced it squarely, and it was nearly upon her when she turned briefly back to Hook.

“You are in no way worth what I’m about to do, Pirate,” she said, contempt dripping from her tone, and Henry knew with a horrible flash of clarity what was about to happen. “Fix that.”

Then she strode forward, power visibly gathering around her, and met the beast’s charge head on. It pounced at her in a single vicious lunge, but as its claws touched the aura of magic surrounding her, time froze for a single, aching second and that image burned itself into Henry’s memory. Then there was a flash so bright and a sound so loud that Henry never found the words to describe it and for a moment, the world ended. There was a ringing in his ears and his vision was filled with white, but when he could see again he almost wished he couldn’t. Where Regina had stood there was only a deep crater, deep enough that it had cracked a water pipe beneath the road, releasing an arc of water high into the air. There was no trace of the beast. There was no trace of his mom.

Emma had been manic in the days that followed, not sleeping, barely eating, casting every kind of tracking and locating spell she could find. Hook had withdrawn into himself, going through the motions of helping Emma, but often disappearing for hours at time and snapping at people for little things. Snow had been – and remained – inconsolable, and Charming was only slightly less so. Henry just felt numb. He’d cried and screamed and raged against the unfairness of it all, but that anger had soon given way to a bone deep sadness, an aching regret of things unsaid.

“I can’t remember the last time I told her I loved her,” he whispered one night as he and Emma sat on the couch in his grandparent’s loft, staring at a blank tv screen.

“Henry…” Emma breathed out, but then fell silent and just pulled him to her side, wrapping an arm around him and squeezing tightly enough that Henry could feel that she was trembling. 

They stayed that way until they both fell asleep, and the next morning Emma finally let Snow arrange the funeral.

**…**

There were more people there than Henry had expected, and he suspected that most of them had come to support the Charmings rather than mourn his mother. Rumplestiltskin was lurking back under the shade of the trees, his face set in an impassive mask. A handful of the Merry Men were clustered around, out of a sense of duty to Robin, Henry guessed. Roland was with them, clinging to Little John and looking small and sad and very young. Even some of the nuns had turned up, though the Blue Fairy was noticeably absent.

Emma had arrived last, looking gaunt and dressed in more black than he’d seen her in since she’d been the Dark One. It had earned her a few side-eyes from some of the other attendees, but she’d ignored them as she weaved through the crowd, moving to stand beside Henry and wrapping an arm tightly around his shoulders. She’d also mostly ignored Hook when he’d sidled up beside her, but she hadn’t pulled away when he’d taken her hand.

Had Henry not been so close to her, he would’ve though Emma unaffected by Snow’s eulogy, but pressed against her as he was, he could feel the tremor that ran through her every time Snow said his mom’s name.

Snow spoke at length about Regina, remembering her as the woman who taught her about true love, hope, and what it meant to be family. There were tears rolling unchecked down her face, and when she’d finished she buried her head in David’s shoulder and cradled their baby between them as Henry slipped out of his ma’s half-hug and took Snow’s place. He hadn’t planned to speak, hadn’t prepared anything, but as he stood in front of a crowd of blurred faces, he found he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

He spoke about the woman who had read comic books with him, who would sing half-remembered songs to herself while she cooked, who would lull him to sleep with stories that he wished he’d paid more attention to. He remembered the woman who had soothed every nightmare, every bumped head and grazed knee, who would hold him when he was scared and whisper that he was her little prince. The woman who had been his whole world for more than two-thirds of his life.

He didn’t cry, because he had run out of tears a week ago, but his voice cracked as he finished with, “She was my mom. And I miss her.”  Then he stumbled off the steps to the crypt and back down to his family, almost falling into Emma’s waiting arms. Her eyes were wet, and her hug was almost painfully tight, but her voice was steady when she spoke.

“Do you want to get out of here, kid?” she murmured softly, and Henry nodded against her shoulder, unable to face the sympathetic expressions of the people who didn’t truly understand. Hook began to say something from somewhere beside them, but then there was a blur of gold and a feeling of weightlessness and they were gone.

They reappeared on a bluff overlooking the harbour. The sun was high in the sky and reflected off the water, and from where they stood, Henry could see the boats gently bobbing at the docks, the birds coasting through the air, the people moving to and fro, happily existing below them. He shivered when Emma released him, and he moved to sit at the base of the gnarled old tree that had grown at the peak of the bluff, stubbornly defying the wind and rain and slowly eroding cliff. After a moment, he felt Emma sink down beside him and pull her knees up to her chest.

Henry wasn’t sure how long they sat together, not talking, just watching the shadows lengthen and the tide recede, until eventually Emma broke the comfortable silence. Her words were halting at first, but her voice grew steadier as she continued. She spoke about Regina, remembering the woman who had gone from a hated adversary to grudging ally to trusted friend. The woman who had loved selectively, but with everything she had, with an intensity Emma was only beginning to understand. The woman who had taught her that good could come from broken.

Henry realised that this was Emma’s eulogy, the things she couldn’t bear to say to the people she knew wouldn’t understand. She spoke without structure, her words almost a stream-of-conscience at times, but Henry got the gist of what she meant, saw the picture she was painting of a woman who had been everything she’d wished for Henry when she’d given him up. A glint of light flashed in the corner of Henry’s eye, and he turned his head, surprised to see tears flowing down Emma’s face, sparkling in the setting sun. Her voice was starting to crack, but she kept talking, staring out over the endless ocean as she spoke, fleetingly, of the battle.

“It should never have happened,” she said, her voice thick. “It’s my fault, Henry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Ma…” Henry whispered, his own voice clogged and his eyes wet with tears. “It’s okay.” He shuffled closer to her and tugged her arm until she leaned into him, burying her head in his shoulder as he slid an arm around her and noted with some very distant amusement that he was almost as tall as her now. Her tears were soaking into his shirt, but she was almost silent, breathing in hitched, ragged gasps, and Henry realised with a flash of insight that this was probably the first time she’d properly cried for Regina.

It was some time later, as the sun was just barely kissing the horizon that Emma drew in a deep, shuddering breath and straightened.

“We should get back before my mom sends out a search party,” she said, her voice rough but steady again.

Henry nodded and stood, brushing the leaf litter off his pants and taking one last look around, fixing the image of this place and what had passed here in his memory. Then he took Emma’s outstretched hand and they vanished in a plume of golden smoke, leaving the lonely bluff empty once more.

**…**

The days that followed passed slowly, blurring together as they all adjusted to a world without Regina in it. Snow spent most of her time with her son, while David went back to the sheriff’s station. Emma still spent time searching for a way to bring Regina back, but Henry saw more of her, and she too resumed her position as Sheriff. Hook, when he wasn’t helping Emma, lingered at the bottom of a bottle, coping with demons he wouldn’t talk about. Henry spent most of his spare time surrounded by the empty storybooks, writing their stories. Sometime he wrote that his mom survived, emerged victorious against her foe as she had so many times before. Sometimes he wrote that the beast got all of them, dragged all of them back down to Hades. And sometimes he wrote it exactly as he remembered it. None of them became Storybooks, but Henry did it all the same. When he wasn’t writing, he watched, and in watching he noticed one very important thing.

There was something wrong with Killian Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, so this is a thing that I did. TBC soon. You can find me on Tumblr as ominousowly if you want to yell at me or pat me on the head or whatever. (<3)
> 
> Owly Out.


	2. Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But she was learning to cope. She was dealing with the reality of a world without Regina, because Regina Mills was dead. And it was getting easier, slowly; no less painful, but not as raw, like a burn that was slowly scabbing over. Then Killian Jones opened his mouth and ruined it with nine words._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this up sooner, but my life sort of imploded a bit for a while. Sorry!

**ii. Emma**

Fate was a bitch, Emma decided. An unholy bitch with a psychopathic grudge. When you could count the number of true friends you’d ever had on one hand, losing one was crushing in a way Emma had hoped she’d never have to live through again. Especially now, when they were finally relaxing into something that could be considered normal. Regina, mourning Robin but present, relying on her family instead of lashing out or pulling away. Henry, happily spending time with both his mothers and working out how to be a teenager when his world wasn’t falling apart around him. Emma, settling back into the role of smallish-town sheriff and post-Dark One-saviour. She and Killian were…working. Nowhere close to perfect, but stable and easy in a way Emma had craved since before she was old enough to know better. And then the façade shattered, violently, because Regina Mills was dead. Regina _fucking_ Mills was dead, killed fixing Emma’s mess in a battle that should never have happened.

She known, going into the underworld, that her decision would have a price, and she had thought herself willing to pay it if it meant getting Killian back, fixing the mess that was ultimately her fault. But the price hadn’t been hers, and when fate had instead extracted it from Robin, a niggling little whisper of doubt had begun murmuring in the back of her mind. _‘Maybe it wasn’t worth it,’_ But she’d forced it down, because if what it was saying was true, then Robin’s death, Regina’s pain, was for nothing. But now Regina had also paid her price, and that little voice was back again, whispering louder this time. ‘ _Maybe_ he _wasn’t worth it.’_

The timing of it was what was killing Emma. Regina had just started coming out from behind her walls again. She’d forgiven Emma, both for her part in Robin’s death and the fact that it had been Emma who dragged her, kicking and screaming, back through the collapsing portal to Storybrooke when Regina had been fighting to stay and save her soulmate. She’d started accepting Henry’s invitations to Granny’s again, and that afternoon, Emma had made a terrible joke and Henry had groaned and Regina had rolled her eyes but then smiled at her with such warmth and affection that Emma thought her heart would burst. And then there was the screech of a damned creature and Emma’s heart did burst, because Regina Mills was dead.

Emma only remembered bits and pieces of the fight after she’d hit the wall, and what she did remember was hazy. She’d gone into the second battle drained, magically speaking, having expended most of her energy in the first fight against Fluffy the Terrible, as Emma had dubbed it in her head. Her magic felt weak and watery, like a drink left long enough for the ice to melt, but it held. It worked. Until it didn’t. Until she reached for it, intending to flash out of the path of an oncoming claw, only to grasp at air and stay where she was. Even Fluffy was surprised, and tried at the last moment to adjust its aim, but it hadn’t anticipated Emma not moving, and as a result, it struck her with the flat of its massive paw rather than the pointy bit. The swipe caught her in the side and sent her flying into a brick wall, and the world around her became splotchy.

Emma’s ears rang and her vision blurred, and her arms refused to do what she told them. Sound filtered in in disjointed pieces, and Emma only barely registered Hook’s pained cry from the other side of the street. She tried to stand, but her legs stayed stubbornly unmoving and her head throbbed painfully. She looked up again and caught sight of Regina, standing in the middle of the road and looking straight at her with an expression Emma still couldn’t decipher. She said something, with that same expression haunting her eyes, but Emma couldn’t hear her over the roaring in her head, and before she could force her mouth to respond, Regina turned and stalked towards Fluffy, power visibly bending the air around her. She stopped somewhere near Hook, and then there was a flash, and a noise, and Regina Mills was dead.

She only barely remembered the days that followed. She’d been totally drained and veering wildly between unyielding denial that Regina was gone, manic determination to find her, and utter terror at the fact that Henry had gone from three parents to one in as many months. Emma was achingly aware that the memories Regina had given her were the only reason she had any idea what she was doing, and even they couldn’t help her console a boy who’d lost the only person he’d always known. Telling him what happened was the hardest thing Emma had ever done, and she knew that the memory of the way he crumpled in on himself would haunt her forever.

She could fix it. She _had_ to fix it. They’d never found a body, and Regina was a survivor. So she threw herself into the search, trying every spell and ritual she could find. Killian helped, at first, but when Emma began spending most of her time in Regina’s study, pouring over obscure ritual texts, he stopped showing up. Emma barely noticed, so consumed was she with the search. Once, she caught herself wishing she still had access to the Darkness, to that helpful little voice in her head that had promised all the answers for the right price. The actual Dark One wasn’t much help. The deal that Regina and Belle had twisted him into after the underworld only dictated that he protect the town; he was under no compulsion to help beyond that, and Emma had nothing he wanted to bargain with.

She made the mistake of mentioning the Darkness to Killian on one of the increasingly infrequent occasions he’d shown up to help her. They were in the library, and Emma had accidentally let it slip as she translated a scroll she’d dug out of the basement of the convent under a fairy’s disapproving gaze. Hook had flinched and stared at her for a long moment, then softly, almost gently, suggested that Emma stop.

“She wouldn’t want you killing yourself trying to bring her back,” he told her, and Emma bristled.

“You don’t know that,” she hissed, her hands tightening around the scroll.

“I do, Emma. She wouldn’t want this.” He looked so sincere, so haunted, that Emma felt the hot anger drain out of her as quickly as it had appeared, and she dropped the scroll.

“I promised her a happy ending,” she whispered, looking at her feet, and Killian wrapped an arm around her.

“I know, love. But she’s gone, and life is for the living.”

And for a few days, Emma dropped it. She left it alone, and just tried to exist in a world where Regina Mills was dead. But after one too many sleepless nights, after watching Henry become more and more despondent, Emma found herself drawn back into the search, unable to believe that there was no answer. No way to fix this. So she started looking again, more intently this time, delving into books that Regina had warned her not to touch.

Then Killian caught her in Regina’s vault, pouring over a scroll she hadn’t been able to read before she’d been the Dark One, and he snapped. The fight that followed had been vicious and ugly, and brought up all the things they hadn’t talked about since Emma had willing walked into the darkness for Regina. Since she’d willingly given into that darkness to save Hook, then willingly dragged her family to the underworld to get him back.

“She died protecting _you_ , Hook. You can’t—”

“Oh please, can we abandon the fiction that any of this ever had anything to do with me?” he’d snapped with a sneer, and Emma had blinked in surprise. “She did it for you. Everything she did was for you.”

 _‘This was your fault.’_ It was nothing that hadn’t been festering at the back of Emma’s mind since the battle, but hearing Hook say it out loud was like a knife of white-hot guilt straight to her heart, and for a moment she could barely breathe.

“I…She’s not…” Emma gasped out, and Hook crossed the distance between them to grip her wrist.

“Regina is _dead_ , Emma,” he hissed, and Emma reached for a flavour of magic she hadn’t touched since the underworld without thinking. She almost lashed out, but a voice in the back of her head – one that sounded achingly like Regina – stopped her, and instead she willed herself into smoke and vanished. She reappeared in her parents’ loft and found Henry sitting in the dark, staring at the blank television screen, and collapsed next to him on the sofa.

Henry barely reacted to her presence, and they stayed like that, sitting together in silence, until her son broke the quiet in a low monotone.

“I can’t remember the last time I said I loved her,” he said, his voice devoid of any emotion, and Emma’s heart broke because _Regina Mills was dead._

“Henry…” But every comforting word was eaten by the guilt bubbling up her throat, and in the end, she just wrapped an arm around him. It was in that moment that her son managed with one sentence that which Hook hadn’t managed in a week: Emma Swan gave up, because her son was hurting and Regina Mills was dead.

Emma went to Snow the next day. She had been gently trying to organise a memorial, careful never to use the word ‘funeral’, but Emma knew that was the gist and had been resisting the idea. So when Emma went to her and told her to go ahead, she’d been expecting a reaction. But Snow had just looked at her with an understanding expression, then pulled her into a hug that Emma hadn’t expected but didn’t resist. It was a one-armed hug because she’d picked up Emma’s little brother when she’d heard about Regina and hadn’t put him down since, but it was comforting all the same.

The funeral itself was hard, but Emma got through most of it. She ignored the urge to burn every person who uttered an insincere condolence to her son, spoke her eulogy to the only person who needed to hear it, and the world moved on, even though Regina Mills was dead.

But she was learning to cope. She was dealing with the reality of a world without Regina, because Regina Mills was dead. And it was getting easier, slowly; no less painful, but not as raw, like a burn that was slowly scabbing over. Then Killian Jones opened his mouth and ruined it with nine words.

They’d made up after the fight in Regina’s vault in time for the funeral the way they usually did: not speaking to each other until one of them – Hook, this time – caved and apologised and then never acknowledging the argument again. But this time, the peace had lasted a little over a day. He’d mentioned Regina one too many times and Emma snapped as all the cracks in their relationship that they’d been smoothing over fractured apart, breaking the dam on all the things left unsaid. Emma knew from experience that there was no coming back from the things they’d said to each other, from the words like ‘curses’ and ‘darkness’ and ‘pretty blonde distraction’ that they’d thrown at each other like weapons, and usually that would have bothered her more. The collapse of one of the few remaining constants in her life should have rattled her, but she was struggling to find it within herself to care, because Regina Mills was dead.

Emma was dealing with it mostly by avoiding him, which is why the sight of him leaning on David’s desk in the sheriff’s station a few days after the blow-up made her freeze in her tracks. She briefly considered poofing directly into her office, or better yet poofing Hook away, but her inner Regina-voice pointed out that that was childish and petty. So, after taking a moment to steel herself, Emma moved forward, pushing through the doors and heading for her office.

“Swan,” Hook said, standing and moving towards her. “I need to talk to you.”

“I can’t deal with you right now,” Emma replied, brushing past Hook and stalking into her office.

“Emma, it’s important,” he insisted, following her as she sat at her desk.

“I don’t want to hear it. Go away.” She was making a great show of ignoring him, shuffling through papers in her in-tray and pointedly not meeting his eye, but she could still see him fidgeting in her peripheral vision.

“I need your help,” the pirate blurted out, moving towards her. “I’m being haunted.”

Emma took a moment to glare at him. “By guilt? Good. You should feel guilty. I do.”

“No,” he cut her off, annoyed, “Literally haunted. By Regina. She says she’s not dead.”

Emma froze from her heart outward. Her mouth went dry and there was a roaring in her ears, and it was almost a minute before she gathered herself enough to say “What?”

“She didn’t want me to tell you. She says she doesn’t think she can come back, and she didn’t want to give you false hope,” he explained, flicking his gaze between her and an apparently empty spot beside her desk.

Again, it took Emma a moment to respond. “Killian, this is sick…” she whispered, shaking her head. “I know you’re angry with me, but this is cruel, and…”

“It’s true, Emma, I swear to you,” the pirate interrupted, before turning to the spot beside her desk again. “Help me prove it.” He paused, then spoke again, giving Emma the impression she was hearing one side of a heated conversation. “We tried your way, Your Majesty, and it’s not working... I’m not having you follow me around for the rest of my life... I can’t do what you want, Regina.”

Hearing him bicker with the empty air was extremely disconcerting, and Emma stood and moved towards him carefully. “Killian, you’re drunk. Just….”

“It’s this or I go to the Crocodile, Your Majesty. Choose,” he said, ignoring Emma and glaring at that same spot. There was a pause, then, “Fine. Emma, Regina says the first thing she ever said to you was ‘you’re Henry’s birth-mother’.”

Emma’s entire world tilted sharply and she dropped heavily back into her seat. Only one other person had heard Regina say that, and he’d been dead since well before Hook had shown up. She’d never mentioned that detail to Hook, to anyone, and couldn’t imagine that Regina had, either. There was no way he could know it, unless…

“She’s really here?” Emma whispered, glancing uncertainly at the spot Hook indicated. The box she’d been forcing her grief into had burst open to riot through her chest, and she could feel herself trembling as a tiny spark of hope flared back to life. “Why can’t I see her?”

“I don’t know. Neither does she. She says she’s tried other people, but apparently I’m the only one who can see or hear her.” He shifted his gaze back to Regina. “I can’t tell you how much fun it’s been,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his tone, but Emma didn’t reply, and when he looked back at her he found her staring at him with an expression eerily reminiscent of the Dark Swan. “Emma?”

“How long?” Emma asked after a long pause. Hook frowned at her in confusion, and Emma clarified. “How long have you been able to see her?”

Hook winced and dropped his gaze. “A few days before the funeral. It took her another couple of days to convince me I wasn’t hallucinating.”

“A week,” Emma hissed, her voice low and deadly. “You’ve known my son’s mother was alive for a week and you kept it to yourself. You let me spend so long searching…” She trailed off, anger and emotion stealing her voice, and Hook held up his hand in a conciliatory gesture.

“She wouldn’t let me tell you. She’s incredibly annoyed that I’m telling you now. But I’m tired of having a ghost follow me everywhere, and everything we’ve tried so far hasn’t worked.”

“You still should have told me.” Emma insisted. “Henry…”

“I’m telling you now,” Hook said, then flinched and shot an annoyed look sideways. “It’s done, Regina. Stop yelling at me.”

“If you’d told me sooner, I could’ve narrowed the search, I wouldn’t have wasted as much time…” Already, new possibilities were flying through Emma’s mind; new spells that might work given that Regina was now merely missing, not dead.

Her train of thought was derailed when Hook spoke again.

“I’m not telling her that,” he told the air. “I saw you teach her to throw fireballs, and she’s already angry with me.”

“Tell me what?” Emma demanded with a glare, and Hook sighed.

“She’s criticising your research technique. It doesn’t matter.” Hook waved off her protest. “No, listen. She says her heart is still here, in Storybrooke,”

Emma stared at him with wide eyes as her own heart clenched in her chest. “Where?”

“I don’t know. She won’t tell me,” he said with an annoyed frown, then flinched and shifted his gaze. “This is the only thing that might get you what you want,” he snapped. “Stop fighting it.” Another pause, then, “What? That’s not helpful…. Fine.” He turned back to Emma. “She says you’ll know what this means. It’s with the same person she trusted it to last time.”

Emma frowned. The last time Regina had removed her heart for any length of time that Emma knew of was when Zelena had first appeared, and when that happened she’d given it to…

Realisation struck, and she started searching her desk for the keys to the cruiser. “I know where it is. C’mon.” She headed for the door, hearing Hook follow somewhere behind her and muttering under his breath about dead queens and cryptic witches.

**…**

It was edging towards twilight when they arrived at the graveyard, and there was a thin layer of mist hanging in the air. Emma shuddered slightly as she wove between the trees, searching for a specific grave and trying to ignore the chill down her spine, the unsettling feeling that she was being watched. Graveyards were inherently creepy, she told herself, even more so when you knew there was an actual ghost following a few feet behind you.

“Are you sure about this, Swan?” Hook asked from somewhere over her shoulder. Emma could tell from the tone of his voice that the atmosphere was getting to him as well, but she couldn’t find the energy to care. She was still furious with him, furious that he’d kept this from her for so long, but right now he was her only link to Regina.

“Yes,” she answer shortly, injecting as much of the anger she was feeling into the word as she could.  Hook seemed to get the message, and fell silent again.

Finally, Emma found the grave she was searching for. It was set back from the path, among a stand of trees, and marked with a modest headstone.

 _Robin Hood_  
Beloved Father  
Trusted Leader  
Treasured Friend

Emma knelt down next to the headstone, examining it and the area around it for any disturbances. The light was fading slowly, but it was already hard to pick out details, so Emma conjured a small fireball in her left hand, letting the light spill out on the ground around the grave.

“Alright,” she said, looking up at where Hook was hovering uncomfortably. “Where is it?”

He paused for a moment, then spoke. “She says there’s a hole under the left corner of the headstone. In the hole there’s a box.”

Emma looked down at the spot he was indicating. With a murmured apology to Robin, she traced the outline of the gravestone to its base, and continued until her fingers found the hole Hook had described. She slid her hand cautiously down the hollow, feeling the warning tingle of a protective spell that dissipated the moment Emma brushed it with her magic. Emma frowned slightly, having expected Regina to protect her heart somewhat more stringently, but after a moment she shrugged inwardly and kept going. Her fingers hit wood a few inches in and she paused, probing it with her magic, but no other spells were forthcoming. She felt around for the edge of the box and tried to pull it out, but it was at an awkward angle, and she couldn’t get a grip on it one-handed. With another apology to Robin, she set the fire in her other hand atop the headstone where is sat merrily flickering with a light that was at odds with the gloomy atmosphere. With her other hand now unoccupied, Emma wormed it into the hole and managed to coax the box out, scraping her knuckles on the stone in the process.

Brushing the dirt off it, Emma noted that the box was almost identical to the numerous ones she’d seen in Regina’s vault. “Is this it?” she asked, looking up at Hook. She didn’t think it was likely that there was more than one heart box buried under Robin Hood’s tombstone, but she had to be sure.

Hook glanced to his right, then nodded slowly. Emma looked back down at the box, feeling her own heart race in her chest and noticing that her hands were shaking as she reached for it. It was locked, but the latch clicked open under a gentle push from Emma’s magic, and after a steadying breath, she gingerly opened the box and picked up the heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm kinda insecure about this chapter, tbh, but wth, I'm releasing it into the wild anyway.


	3. Regina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Regina held her breath as Emma looked down at her heart. It wasn’t as dark as she remembered, but it was silent and still, and the usual glow was muted. Emma gazed at it for a long moment, then reached into the box with a trembling hand. Regina knew the exact moment she touched it, feeling a twinge in her chest as Emma slid her hand gently under her heart and lifted it free. All three of them froze for a long moment._  
>  And nothing happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been ages, and I apologise. But lookit, new chapter! Yay!

**iii. Regina**

 

Hook was ignoring her again. He’d grown incredibly deft at it in the days since she’d realised he could see her, and Regina was feeling a truly impressive level of frustration at him, given that her heart wasn’t in her chest. It didn’t help that the only outlet she had for that frustration was yelling at him, and that was far less effective when he wasn’t reacting to her. Her magic wasn’t responding, and her attempts to make physical contact with him – or anybody else – ended with her hand passing straight through him.

Without that distraction, she was left with only her thoughts. Memories. She remembered the battle, the blinding flash and the sensation of being yanked off her feet. Then flashes of absolute blackness and being pulled in every direction at once and _pain_ , more intense than she’d ever experienced. A pain so unbearable she’d reached out with everything she had, trying to get away. Then a feeling of weightlessness, and she was back in Storybrooke, kneeling next to Robin’s grave and screaming in agony that she no longer felt.

The first person she sought out was Henry. She found him curled up in the corner of his room at her house, and for a moment, she thought he was sleeping before she noticed his eyes were open. He was staring blankly at the Storybook that lay open on the floor a few feet away. He didn’t react to her entrance, remaining motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest and occasional twitch of his fingers.

“Henry?” she murmured, taking a careful step into the room. He didn’t react, and Regina felt a flood of unease in her gut. “Henry?” she said again, louder, and again he made no response, not even a flick of his eyes in her direction. Abandoning caution, Regina crossed the room and sank down next to him, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. “Henry, what…” her words trailed off into a gasp when her hand passed straight through him. She tried again, this time trying to cup his cheek in her hand, and was met with the same result.

A noise from downstairs halted her third attempt. Without thinking, Regina moved to summon a fireball and teleport towards the sound. The fireball didn’t come, but to her surprise, she found she’d move from Henry’s room into her office, albeit without the swirl of smoke that usually accompanied her. She tried again to call fire to her hand, but the place she usually felt her magic was empty and again nothing happened.

A hissed exclamation from the other side of the room halted any further attempts. Regina turned at the familiar voice and saw Emma sitting on the sofa, surrounded books, and for one glorious second Regina thought she could see her. But then the saviour tossed the book she was holding aside and stood, digging through the pile on the coffee table briefly before throwing up her hands and beginning to pace, muttering to herself. Regina approached her slowly, and Emma stopped moving and dropped back onto the sofa, rubbing her eyes.

Regina knelt down in front of her as she dropped her hand, and what she saw lodged a shard of ice in her chest. She’d seen many emotions directed at her from those eyes. Hate, empathy, fear, compassion. Love. But never nothing, and seeing those eyes stare straight through her without even a flicker of recognition hurt more than Regina was expecting.

The queen closed her eyes and willed herself out of the room. She sought out Snow, then David, then – out of desperation – Rumple. All with the same result, and with a growing horror, Regina realised her fate. She was here but alone, cursed to exist without actually existing. It was worse than anything she’d ever imagined, and when she comprehended the sheer misery of the life before her, she collapsed where she stood and wept.

**…**

Her discovery that Hook could see her came completely by accident. She’d been following David around out of sheer boredom and because she couldn’t bear to watch Emma’s manic spiral or Henry’s despondent writing any longer. The deputy sheriff – because Emma would always be _the_ sheriff in Regina’s mind – had been summoned to eject a number of rowdy patrons from the Rabbit Hole, Hook among them. Regina was lurking near the door, watching with some amusement as David attempted to coral the drunken peasants, when the pirate happened to glance in her direction. Then froze and looked again before going pale and swaying on his feet.

“Regina?”

David flinched and turned to scan the space behind him, but his eyes didn’t pause as they swept over her. Hook, on the other hand, was staring at her with wide eyes, and after a moment’s pause he staggered towards her.

“Regina?” he said again, drunkenly trying to get past David. “You’re dead.”

That word jolted Regina out of her shock, and she moved further into the room. “You can see me?” she asked, her voice pitched high in surprise.

“You were dead!” Hook yelled, struggling against David’s hold. “What, was it all some joke? Some plot? She—you—Get off!”

“Okay Hook, I think you’ve had enough. Come and sleep it off at the station.” David said, ignoring Hook’s rambling and pulling him towards the door. They both passed right through Regina as they went, snapping the queen out of her shock.

“Hook?” she called as David pushed him towards the cruiser.

“You’re dead!” he slurred back over David’s shoulder. “You’re not real, you died!” He kept up that mantra as David shut the door and dropped into the driver’s seat. He twisted as best he could as they drove away, keeping Regina in sight until they turned a corner. Regina stayed frozen for another moment, then shut her eyes and willed herself to the sheriff’s station.

**…**

It took Regina almost three days to convince Hook that she wasn’t a hallucination, and she often wondered if this was fate punishing her by forcing her to spend the rest of her life with the most insufferable person in the world. But, starved for even the simplest human contact as she was, Regina found herself clinging to Hook like a lifeline, because any interaction was better than the void she’d existed in before.

Hook didn’t share her opinion, and was less than pleased at the prospect of being followed around by Regina for the rest of his life. She’d been adamant that he not tell anyone about her, unwilling to bring more pain to the people she loved and wary of what Rumple might be able to do to her in her reduced state. Being the only one to know she was there was making Hook seem twitchy and erratic, and more than one person had noticed the pirate’s strange behaviour. Which was why, almost a week after her funeral, she found him drowning his sorrows in a seedy bar that had appeared during the second curse, pointedly ignoring her as she glared at him from across the room.

“This is pathetic, pirate,” she said, appearing behind him, making him flinch and dig his hook into the table.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” he snapped, loud enough to draw a dull-eyed gaze from a nearby patron. Hook glared at her until she returned to her drink, then continued in a low hiss. “What do you want from me, Regina?”

“I’m not going to get what I want. I’ll settle for you cleaning yourself up and at least acting like you’re worth the price _I_ paid to keep you here.”

“Yes, your _heroic sacrifice_ ,” he spat, making the words sound like an insult. “Thank you ever so much.”

“Would you rather be dragged back to the underworld?”

“I’d rather you stopped lying to both of us that you did it for me,” he said, glaring at her with a remarkably clear expression, given how much alcohol he’d consumed.

Regina returned his glare for a few moments before shifting her gaze to the bar. “Fine, yes, it was for Emma. Because even though she deserves someone better than either of us, you’re supposed to be her _true love_ ,” she spat, standing to lean across the table. “You were supposed to be her happy ending. We dragged your pitiful, wretched soul back from the underworld because she needed you.” Regina pushed off the table and paced away again, fighting the desire to hit something. “All you had to do was make her happy, and you were too pathetic to even manage that much.”

Hook sat in silence for a moment, then let out a strangled laugh. She glanced around to find the pirate watching her. “What?”

“You’re in love with her,” he said, his expression twisted into something between revelation and disgust.

Without her heart in her chest, Regina was able to control her reaction enough to scoff believably. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

But Hook was looking at her as if he’d just uncovered all the secrets of the universe. “No, it makes sense. Everything makes sense.”

“Whatever perverted fantasy you’ve dreamt up in that rum-soaked brain of yours, I’ll thank you to leave me out of it,” she snapped, but Hook was ignoring her again. He drained his glass then stood, heading towards the door. “Where are you going, Guyliner?”

“To talk to Emma. Maybe she’ll stop blaming me if I tell her the truth.”

“Hook, get back here. Hook!” Regina vanished and reappeared in front of him, but he strode right through her, ignoring her completely, and stormed unsteadily down the street in the direction of the sheriff’s station.

**…**

“This is a bad idea,” Regina hissed as they followed Emma. The saviour hadn’t said a word since they’d left the station, and was stalking rigidly through the cemetery

Hook shot her a look, then spoke. “Are you sure about this, Swan?” he asked, lengthening his stride to catch up to her.

Emma didn’t even look at him. “Yes,” she answered shortly, and Regina could hear the controlled emotion in her tone.

Hook threw his hand up and shot Regina a look that said “ _See? Nothing I can do._ ” She glared at him but stayed silent. There was an uncomfortable pulling sensation in her chest that was growing stronger the closer they got to Robin’s grave, and when it came into view, Regina had to fight the urge to sink down next to it.  

“Alright, where is it?” Emma asked, looking uncomfortably down at the headstone.

As Hook parroted her instructions to Emma, Regina caught herself clenching and unclenching her hands and forced them to still. She tensed as the glow of the saviour’s magic brushed against the protection spell she’d placed, but relaxed again when it dissipated harmlessly, as it was meant to. Emma wriggled the box out of its hiding place and rested it on her knees.

“Is this it?” she asked, looking at Hook. He glanced at Regina, who nodded without speaking. The pirate copied her motion, and Emma looked back down at the box in her lap. Her magic glowed briefly as she used it on the lock, and Regina could see that her hands were shaking as she slowly opened the lid.

Regina held her breath as Emma looked down at her heart. It wasn’t as dark as she remembered, but it was silent and still, and the usual glow was muted. Emma gazed at it for a long moment, then reached into the box with a trembling hand. Regina knew the exact moment she touched it, feeling a twinge in her chest as Emma slid her hand gently under her heart and lifted it free. All three of them froze for a long moment.

And nothing happened.

“I told you this wouldn’t work, pirate,” Regina hissed, turning to Hook. He frowned at her, and she continued. “All you did was get her hopes up. I said—”

A choked sob from down beside the grave cut her off. Looking over, Regina saw Emma on her knees, staring directly at her with wide, wet eyes.

“Regina…” she breathed out, trembling as she held the queen’s heart against her chest.

Regina crossed the space between them and sank down beside her, resisting the urge to reach for her. “I’m here, Emma. I’m…well, I’m not okay, but I’m here.”

“How?” Emma asked, the word tearing out of her throat in a way that made Regina’s chest tighten. There were tears running unchecked down her face, and she was shaking and clutching Regina’s heart to her chest like her most prized possession.

“I don’t know,” Regina admitted, her hand going unconsciously to her chest. “My heart might be tethering me here, but I’m not sure.”

“Can I…Can I touch you?” Emma asked haltingly, reaching towards her with the hand that wasn’t cradling her heart. Regina froze as it sank through her arm, then shuddered.

“I can feel that,” the queen said, staring curiously at where Emma’s arm protruded from her shoulder. “It’s not like a touch, it just….tingles.” She pressed experimentally at her own shoulder, and the tingling intensified until Emma withdrew her hand.

“I can’t feel you at all,” she whispered, looking down at her hand then back up at Regina. Her expression was so lost, her eyes filled with so much sadness that Regina’s heart ached, separated from her body though it was.

“Emma…”

“You’re here,” Emma breathed out, her voice cracking. “You’re…I went to your _funeral_.”

“I know, darling. I’m sorry,” she murmured, reaching to cup Emma’s cheek without thinking.

“If you two are finished,” snapped a voice from behind them, making both women flinch apart. They’d both forgotten Hook was watching, and judging from the look on his face, he’d noticed. “Can we get out of here? This place is creepy enough without the ghosts.” He glared pointedly at Regina, and she gave him one of her practised Evil Queen smiles.

“Okay,” Emma said, scrubbing her face with her free hand and drawing their attention back to her. “But first, how do we get you back?”

“You…You don’t, Emma,” Regina murmured haltingly, hating the way the saviour stilled at the words. “I’m dead, for all intents and purposes. My body isn’t here, and I don’t think I can come back.”

“Then why…”

“I need to say goodbye, Emma. To you and Henry,” Regina explained, then took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “And then I…I need you to crush my heart.”

Emma’s face went white and she recoiled against the headstone before flinching away from it. “What? No! Regina, I’m not—”

But Regina cut her off. “Where I am _hurts_ , Emma, and I can’t stay there forever. I’ve tried everything I can think of to get back here, and it’s not working.” The queen reached out towards her, wishing desperately that she could touch her but unable to. “Please, Emma.”

Regina could see the conflict in Emma’s eyes, see the emotion playing through them, and for a moment she thought she might have gotten through to her. But then Emma’s eyes hardened, and the walls came back up.

“No. No! This is bullshit!” Emma cried, lurching to her feet. “You were never trying to come back, you were looking for a way to…” Her eyes cut to Hook accusingly. “You lied to me.”

“I…” he started, but Regina moved between them, trying to get Emma to focus on her.

“He misrepresented my wishes, against my instructions. But Emma, please, listen...”

“No!” Emma snapped, backing away. “I’m not giving up on you. I got _him_ back, I’m sure as hell not letting you go without a fight.”

Regina didn’t miss the venom in her voice when she mentioned Hook, or the way the pirate flinched then stiffened at her words. Emma didn’t seem to notice.

“You didn’t give up on me. With the Darkness. You don’t get to give up on yourself. No.” With that, Emma turned and marched towards the gate.

“Emma! Emma, wait.” Regina ran to keep up with her, feeling an odd tug towards her heart pulling at her as she went. “Emma, where are you going?”

“To see Gold. I’ll wring some answers from the shady bastard even if I have to—”

“Okay,” Regina interrupted, catching up to Emma and attempting to grab her arm. Her hand passed right through her, and the saviour didn’t react to the touch. “But you can’t storm down Main Street with a heart in your hand.”

“She’s right, Swan,” Hook said, catching Emma’s other arm in a more substantial grip and turning her to face them. Emma pulled away from him and scowled, but stayed where she was. “People will panic if they see you with that. They’ll think you’ve gone dark again.”

“I don’t care,” Emma declared hotly, though her grip on Regina’s heart was still gentle, despite her anger.  

“I’d also prefer if you didn’t wave it around in front of Rumple,” Regina added, as if neither of them had spoken. “He’s been well behaved recently, but I still don’t trust him.”

“Oh.” Emma’s eyes lost some of their fury, and she glanced down at the heart in her hands. “But if I put it down I won’t be able to see you.”

Regina smiled. “Just put it in your pocket, Emma. It’s more resilient than you’d think.”

But Emma looked aghast at the thought. “I’m not putting your _heart_ in my pocket, Regina!” she exclaimed, clutching it to her chest. She glanced down at where it rested against her sternum again and her eyes widened slightly. “What if I…”

Regina saw what she was about to do a second before she did it. “Emma, don’t!”

But even as she said it, the saviour’s eyes narrowed in concentration and Regina felt the flare of her magic. Then there was a flash of warmth over her and Regina gasped and staggered, one hand going to her suddenly tight chest as Emma groaned and sank to her knees, bracing herself with now-empty hands.

“What did you do, Swan?” Hook cried as he reached down to steady her, but Emma’s answer was a low hiss of pain.

“She put my heart in her chest.” Regina explained in between gasping breaths, staring wide-eyed down at the saviour. “That should not have worked.”

“Well take it out!” Hook demanded as Emma continued to tremble.

“I can’t,” Regina retorted, waving her hand through where his hook rested on Emma’s arm for emphasis. “She’ll be okay, it just her body and magic adjusting. If it was going to kill either of us, it would’ve been me and it would’ve happened straight away.”

“You… didn’t tell me that,” Emma mumbled between breaths, shooting Regina an alarmed look.

“You didn’t give me a chance,” Regina snapped back as Hook helped Emma to her feet. “That was one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done, and there’s heavy competition for that honour,” she began, but softened when Emma met her gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, rubbing her chest. “It feels weird, but…yeah.”

“Shall we go, then?” Hook asked, frowning between them. “This place is creepy.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, blinking and breaking eye contact with Regina. “C’mon, let’s go.”

**…**

“Well well well,” Rumple said when Emma had finished explaining the situation. “This is unexpected. And interesting. Where is Regina’s heart now?” Emma stayed silent, but her hand strayed unconsciously to her chest and Rumple noticed. “Very interesting,” he repeated, glancing between Emma and Hook with a smirk.

“Enough, Crocodile,” Hook snapped, stepping forward. “Can you help us or not?”

Rumple shifted his gaze to Hook, his expression going flat. “I can, but why should I? My current deal only states that I have to protect the town. Retrieving Regina from whatever she’s gotten herself into isn’t covered by that.”

Emma almost snarled. “What do you want?” she gritted out from between clenched teeth, making Gold grin impishly.

“A favour, to be called in at my leisure,” he said.

“Emma, don’t–” Regina started, but Emma ignored her.

“Done. Where is she?”

Rumple took a moment to smirk at her before answering. “It is my belief that Regina is trapped in the space between realms. She threw enough power at the beast to destroy it and it knew that, so in the last second before the spell hit, it attempted to return to the underworld. Regina was close enough that she was trapped in the portal, but didn’t make it all the way through before it closed, trapping her between here and there.” He looked almost directly at her, and for a moment she forgot that he couldn’t see her. “It must be very painful, dearie.”

Regina glowered at him, then took half a step to the left so he was looking at the wrong spot.

“Why can only I see her?” Hook asked from Emma’s other side, and Gold shifted his gaze to him, his expression contemplative.

“It could be because the creature was hunting for you when Regina banished it, and part of that connection remained. Or it could be because you were too close to her. Or,” he continued with a little imp-like smirk. “It could be because an act of fatal sacrifice, especially by a sorcerer, is a powerful thing. It can create a link between the sacrificer and the one for whom it was made.”

You’re say Captain Guyliner and I are…bonded? Is it permanent?” Regina asked, distaste written across her face as she glanced at Hook. Emma paraphrased the question and Rumple smirked again.

“Only so long as you’re trapped wherever you are. Once you’ve returned, the connection will vanish.”

“Thank gods for that.” Regina and Hook both said at the same time in rare agreement.

“Can you get her back?” Emma asked, ignoring the interaction going on over her shoulders.

“With your help, Miss Swan, I believe so.” Rumple answered, moving to rifle through the draw of a cabinet against the wall.

“Okay then, let’s go.” Emma turned towards the door, but Rumple shook his head.

“I need time to prepare. So do you. Here.” He held out a scroll tied with a scarlet ribbon. “This is the spell you’ll need.”

Emma unrolled the first few inches of it then shook her head. “I don’t need it. I know this one,” she said, and Regina shot her a surprised look. Emma rarely spoke about her time as the Dark One, and she’d never talked about how much she remembered of what it had taught her. Though, in fairness, Regina had never asked.

Gold was also looking at her with a speculative glint in his eye. “Very well. Noon tomorrow then, Miss Swan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [ Tumblr!](the-ominous-owl.tumblr.com/) Or yell at me, I'm open to anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, so this is a thing that I did. TBC soon. You can find me on Tumblr as the-ominous-owl if you want to yell at me or pat me on the head or whatever. (<3)
> 
> Owly Out.


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